


S-i-x

by cheshireArtist



Series: Rebirth and Broken Timeloops [1]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bullying, But it hasn't left my mind and I need to write, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Gen, Implied broken timeloop, Little Nightmares II Spoilers, No beta we die like the Janitor, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, Shouta Aizawa is a feral little gremlin, Six and the Lady are the same person, Six has regrets, Six is reborn as Shouta Aizawa, Six typical cannibalism, This is a really weird concept I know, Trans Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Young Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 04:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArtist/pseuds/cheshireArtist
Summary: Six, Shiori, Shouta …they are all one in the same.Dreams haunt him and a hunger burns deep inside him, but maybe, just maybe he could do better.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Original Female Character(s), Mono & Six (Little Nightmares)
Series: Rebirth and Broken Timeloops [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210589
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	S-i-x

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, coming at you again with a really really weird AU series I want to do.   
> Tell me whatcha think. 
> 
> This is what happens when my two current obsessions collide.

Shiori Aizawa was an unusual child. 

She didn’t like playing with the other children. She preferred playing by herself with broken toys and the mud, twigs and dirt. The toys wouldn’t call her mean names like “freak” and “creepy”. Toys wouldn’t kick dirt into her sensitive eyes or pull at her dark hair until she cried. Toys wouldn’t start rumors about her being a yokai or a villain with her overly pale skin, or pitch black hair with the eyes to match. Toys wouldn’t call her quirk evil. 

Toys wouldn’t make her feel weak. They wouldn't be weirded out by the way she chewed and chewed on things, leaving dolls riddled with bite marks or plushies with holes her Mommy had to patch or stitch. She could just break them if they did, and she often broke them anyways with her strong and sharp little teeth. 

She hated feeling weak, but it seemed that was all she ever was. Weak. Even with her sharp teeth she was still so weak. She was weak in school where the other kids would tease her and pull at her hair or write mean words all over her desk. Where teachers would look down at her in disgust as she broke the arms off a baby doll and popped the end into her mouth to chew on. 

She was weak also at home, where her Father would scream and yell and make her Mommy cry and make purple appear on her Mommy’s pretty face. Sometimes her Father would turn to Shiori to vent his frustrations instead and she would have to stay home from school because her back would hurt so bad and be covered in big purple bruises. Mommy would take care of her then, quietly telling her to try and stay out of the way of her Father. 

This frustrated Shiori. The powerlessness. Her lack of ability to just help her Mommy. Her quirk was useless because it was just like her Father’s. Erasure, but instead of it being in her hands it was in her eyes and flickered for only a second or two before her eyes hurt too much and she was forced to blink. Completely and utterly useless. She hated it. 

In her dreams she was powerless too, but only sometimes. 

She wasn’t sure when they began but it seemed like she always had them. She dreamed of the forest, fear and twigs snapped beneath her feet. She dreamed of the crank of a music box in her tiny hands and a soothing melody. She dreamed of a boy with a bag on his head, a kindness in his voice and an outstretched hand. She dreamed of the recoil of a gun knocking her off feet and grey city with buildings that bent and twisted and crumbled. Of a school full of empty headed children and their grabbing hands. Of a demonic teacher and the boy yet again offering a hand to her, but this time she took it instead of shoving him away. She dreamed of a bright yellow raincoat and fingers gripping her own. She dreamed of a Doctor that hung from the ceiling, hands that moved on their own and mannequins that lumbered about when the lights were out. She dreamed of a thin, gray man and people with twisted faces, the sound of TV static ever present as well as a pulsing, painful tower. 

She dreamed of dropping the boy. She always woke up crying when she dropped the boy. 

Shiori also dreamed of another place, where the salty smell of the sea was always present. A place of metal and greed and gluttony. A place where children laid in cages and little creatures scuttled about in the dark. She dreamed of outrunning long, long hands and dodging chief knives. Sometimes she woke up from these dreams with the taste of meat and blood on her tongue, and a strange twisting in her gut. She dreamed of a lady in a mask and she also dreamed of digging her teeth into the woman’s exposed neck, ripping at flesh and blood dripping down her lips as she ripped and tore like a feral animal. She had power then. She had power but soon found herself put in a kimono and donning a mask like the Lady before her. Again and again and again. 

In these dreams she was called Six. 

She wasn’t sure who she disliked being more.

* * *

Shiori was 10 when things took a shift in her life. She had long stopped chewing strange things openly. Her father had made sure of that. Her jaw still had phantom aches from the hours and hours spent with a muzzle digging into her cheeks and the hunger pains that stabbed at her stomach from the days spent only sipping water between the gaps with a straw. Though the hunger pains were nowhere near as bad as the ones she had in her dreams sometimes as Six. Those felt like her whole body was going to eat itself, but these ones were never fun either. 

She had also taken to doing something else that particularly annoyed her father. She would hide her skirts and dresses. When that stopped working she would get them stained or ripped or just plain out, throw them into the trash, layering paper towels or crumpled plastic bags over them in an attempt to cover the evidence. She hated them. She hated them a lot. She couldn’t explain why but they made her feel weird. They made people call her a little lady or pretty. She didn’t like that. Though...they weren’t the only thing that did that. 

On a tuesday night when her father was working late Shiori took a pair of kitchen shears to her head, lobbing off her hair in uneven chunks, leaving a stringy, choppy mess behind. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at herself with wide eyes. Her hair had always been long. It was down to her waist actually, but now it was up to her chin. She marveled at it, the difference. She felt lighter in more ways than physically. That’s how her mom found her, staring transfixed at the mirror at her new appearance. For the record her mom didn’t get mad, just shocked for a moment before gently taking Shiori back to the kitchen. Her mom had sat her on a stool in the kitchen and set about evening out her hair with a proper pair of scissors.

“Why did you cut off all your pretty hair, Shi-chan,” Her mom asked in that soft and gentle voice of hers, running her fingers through her daughter’s now chin length hair. 

“...don’t like it,” Shiori mumbled back, swinging her legs back and forth and shrugging her shoulders, “People call me a lady cause of it...I don’t like it.” 

“You...don’t like being called a lady,” Her mom asked slowly, looking down at her with dark eyes identical to Shiori’s own.

Shiori shook her head and said softly, “No...I’m notta lady. I feel weird when they call me a lady ‘cause I’m not…” 

“Ah…,” Was his mother’s only reply before she quickly and quietly said, “Don’t bring this up with your father.” 

She didn’t need to tell Shiori twice. He was going to be mad enough about her hair...no need to add to the list of things freakish about her to him.

* * *

Shiori was 11 when she finally found a word for what she was feeling. 

Transgender. 

She had been searching for something to describe what she felt on the library's computer and it was something that popped up time and time again. 

It fit.

The pieces clicked together and Shiori finally realized that she would much rather be a he. That's what felt wrong, that's what made him feel weird when people called him pretty or a young lady. Shiori was a boy, not a girl...just his body didn't quite match up with his brain. 

He went to his mom with this revelation and he will forever wish he hadn’t, or that he at least found a better time. Due to his excitement about the revelation he forgot to check whether or not his father was around. The man rounded the corner as Shiori finished explaining what transgender was and he would forever remember the color draining from her mother’s face and the smile fade from her lips. Larger hands tangled into short hair and ripped back. His father’s face was locked in an expression between disgust and cold rage. 

“Not daughter of mine,” He had said, a sneer on his lips before Shiori’s mom unfroze and practically jumped to grab at the man’s wrist, nails digging into his flesh enough to make the man grunt in pain and let go of Shiori. He fell to his knees as the screaming began. Shiori watched mute horror as his father wrapped his hands around his mother’s neck and squeezed. He watched as they both stumbled about, plates breaking and items getting knocked off the kitchen counters as the two adults fought. He felt his stomach suddenly twist in a familiar pain and the kitchen lights flicker above them harshly. Shiori doubled over in pain, gasping for a moment before forcing himself to look up. Time slowed and his eyes locked with a shadowy figure crouching on the counter, glitching in and out of existence... _ Six _ . Shiori didn’t remember much of what happened next, just waking up the sound of sirens, the taste of blood in his mouth and watching his father be loaded into an ambulance, neck bleeding profusely. He felt weird. Numb and detached as his mother held him, smoothing fingers through his hair and trying to wipe the blood from his lips and from under his nails. He remembered the way the bruises colored his mother’s neck. He swore to himself that he would never let anyone hurt her like that again.

His father died on the way to the hospital. Blood loss they said since Shiori’s teeth had ripped at a major artery. Shiori couldn’t bring himself to feel anything about it besides a little satisfaction. He didn’t even feel guilty or even sad. His father was only that in title and all he ever did was hurt them. Well...he wouldn’t be hurting them anymore now. 

But Shiori felt something else too after that chunk of flesh slid so easily down his throat.

He felt  _ full _ . 

* * *

They had moved out of the townhouse they lived in and out of the suburbs and into an apartment complex. He didn’t mind the change all too much. It was a new start and he was happy about that. No one knew him here and he couldn’t help the sense of relief that gave him.

His mom had asked him something the night they finished moving the boxes into the apartment as they sat on the floor over their bowls of instant ramen. 

“Would...would you like to pick a new name, honey?” 

He said yes. Shiori was tied too much to the feeling of wrongness...he didn’t want to be Shiori anymore. 

After a few weeks he found a name he liked...Shouta. 

He was half tempted to use the name Roku, but being called a variant of Six again made his stomach twist in a weird way...so Shouta it was. 

\-- 

Shouta felt better than he had before now that he was living with just his mom and found a proper therapist. He went through a few that just didn’t feel right or made him uncomfortable. He also went through a few doctors. One of which was overweight and balding and made him feel his heart start thudding when he put a hand towards him. He was just trying to check his heart beat but Shouta could only feel panic in that moment. He snapped his teeth at him, narrowly missing a pudgy hand, and his mother took him home immediately. For some reason all he could think about was the ruined hospital from his dreams and the doctor that hung from the ceilings when he saw that man. His next doctor was a woman and it was enough of a difference that she became his primary. 

He liked his doctor, honestly. She was a nice lady, worked with his therapist to get him on puberty blockers and that made his body a bit more bearable to be in. He would be starting on actual hormones in high school hopefully. He looked forward to it. 

When he dreamed of being Six he remembered growing up on the Maw. The way his chest swelled and hips grew made his stomach churn. It was wrong, it was all wrong. The kimonos and dresses were wrong. The make up was wrong. Everything was wrong, but he was the Lady and thus he had to bend to the role. He smashed every mirror he could in that damned place. He didn’t want to look at himself and that was one of the many reasons why. Shouta was just glad he wouldn’t have to see himself like that again. 

Despite these positive changes Shouta still felt... _ off _ . Aimless and lonely, he guessed. He didn’t really have many plans for the future and he didn’t have any friends outside of the local stray cat population. He also felt a...longing of sorts. He missed him, the boy with the paper bag on his head and the warm hands. If he thought further back in his dreams he also missed an older girl with braided hair and a yellow raincoat that he would later dawn as his own, but the boy was more prominent to him in his dreams. 

He wondered what the boy would be aiming for in this world of villains and heroes. He was sweet and kind, though stupidly single minded and idiotically brave. Six had wondered if he had any sense of self preservation and so did Shouta. 

It was obvious. So glaringly obviously. 

He would be a Hero. 

He would be a stupidly brave hero and be one of the best in Shouta's mind at least. In thinking about the boy Shouta often wondered...was he too capable of that? Of being brave. Of helping others. Of not being undyingly selfish. Could Shouta be a hero too? 

Shouta thought about this as he carried a stray cat in his arms, muddy and skinny with clumps of matted fur and a missing eye. It shivered in his grasp and stained his new yellow raincoat with grime. He let out a soft humming noise and rubbed it's head softly, listening to growls turn into purrs. 

He thought about it as he lost sleep by the stray's bed side, feeling determined to prove the vet wrong. The cat would live, Shouta would make sure of it. And live the cat did. He, because Shouta found out it was a he, became part of the Aizawa household. His mom had even let him name it. As he looked into the black cat's single yellow eye as it purred softly in his lap only one name came to mind. 

"Mono...after the bravest boy I ever knew." 

Even if he only knew that boy from his dreams. 

Shouta also made a decision that day, at twelve years old...he was going to become a hero and do something with his life that would make that little boy with the paper bag on his head proud. It was the least he could do. 


End file.
